


Twist and Shout

by Dapper



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Omorashi, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27729409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dapper/pseuds/Dapper
Summary: Mac refuses to let Charlie up in the midst of an argument about nothing, and Charlie tries to warn him he’s gonna get wet. Written before Mac came out, so it’s a little dated by this point.
Relationships: Charlie Kelly/Mac McDonald
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Twist and Shout

**Author's Note:**

> this has been rotting in my google drive for, let’s see, three years now, but i went back and read it and it made me laugh enough to decide to post it. let me know if i missed any tags.
> 
> this is gross. don’t read it if it’s not your cuppa. everyone else, i hope you enjoy.

It had to happen sometime.

Mac and Charlie were each about seven beers in, and deep in an argument that would be forgotten the next day. They weren't getting anywhere anyway, considering they both were too busy yelling over each other to take in the other’s side of the argument. But, that's how shit got done at Paddy’s, who were they to suddenly break that recipe for greatness?

Generally, the rest of the gang would be there to break the cycle (or, more realistically, add to the yelling), but Frank was embroiled in his own affairs (banging hookers back at his and Charlie’s place), and Dennis and Dee were off doing their own thing. They'd explained it earlier to Mac (Charlie had been in the basement tending to the ongoing rat problem), but Mac had only been pretending to listen, as he didn't care.

So here they were, Mac and Charlie growing even more heated as the seconds ticked by. Charlie’s voice cracked and raised in pitch as he kept speaking, while Mac’s face grew redder and his gestures got even bigger as anger rose, normally slicked back bangs falling down over his forehead.

Finally, Charlie slammed his bottle on the table in a way that would've gotten beer everywhere if not for the bottle being empty.

“ _Fine_ , dude, it's, it's whatever,” he slurred, refusing to meet Mac’s eyes, especially when Mac whooped and raised his arms into the air as if he'd won some great victory.

“So you admit it! I’m right, say I’m right,” Mac goaded.

“No, man, I’m not saying you're right, I just gotta take a piss.” Charlie scoffed, hopping off his barstool.

Mac, apparently, saw this as a challenge. “Dude, what? Now you're just conveniently being a bitch because you know I got you in a corner with my sick debating skills!”

“No, I actually have to piss—”

“Well you're not getting away _that_ easy, bro!”

Charlie was given half a second to brace himself against Mac’s combined body weight and determination, but this was hardly enough, especially since Charlie was too busy trying to formulate a response rather than brace himself.

His stutters turned to a shrill shriek of real, raw terror as he fell, though his breath left him with a _woosh_ with the floor hitting his back and Mac’s weight pinning him to the hardwood.

Because Mac was Mac, this was hardly the first time Charlie had found himself in this position. Hardly the first time this had happened while they were both wasted, even.

Mac was busy doing his best to strongarm Charlie into admitting...something, Charlie didn't even really remember what they had been talking about. Shit.

Charlie thrashed underneath Mac, even managing to flip them before Mac once again rolled them over, Charlie yelling all the while variations of “get _off_ me, dude!”. Of course, Mac was still talking over him, so Charlie only thrashed harder, which led to more yelling from both parties, until Mac finally shifted his leg so that he was straddling Charlie.

Mac didn't realize Charlie had stopped yelling for a few seconds, but cut himself off when he noticed the look Charlie was giving him. Mac knew that look. That was the look of _bro, come on, seriously? again?_ with a hint of _I know something you don't, but I’m not gonna do what a good friend would do and spell it out for you_.

Flustered, Mac shook Charlie by the shoulders, but this, unfortunately, didn't dislodge that _look_. “What, dude?” He didn't have time to figure it out for himself, not when Charlie could just _tell_ him and they could get back to discussing more important matters.

“What, you don't know?”

“I don't know what you're talking about! Just tell me!”

“No, I’m serious. You actually don't feel that at all? Cause, it's pretty, uh. There.”

“What, dude, just spit it out, oh my god!”

“I’m talking about that wicked boner you've got right now man! How do you not notice that?!”

Mac went rigid. Looked down at himself.

“Oh, that? That's not a boner. See, that's a physical manifestation of my dominance and raw masculinity. It’s not fueled by any sexual desire, that would be ridiculous. There are no hot chicks here, so that's not possible. Unless I was some kind of queer. Which, obviously, I’m not, because being gay is a sin, you know that. This boner is fueled by pure masculine power. If you were in my position, you’d totally have a boner too.”

Mac continued on like this for a while. It was kind of amazing the way he came up with excuses. Unfortunately, Mac’s weight reminded Charlie why he had gotten up in the first place, and his wiggling in hopes of escape only seemed to make it worse.

Charlie cut Mac off mid-sentence. “Dude, it’s, it’s whatever, I believe you, just, I need to get up, man, I’m gonna piss myself, I’m seriously not kidding.”

But Mac still didn't let Charlie go. He had a point (or two) to prove, he wasn't going to let Charlie up until he fully conceded to Mac’s opinions.

“We’re getting off-topic. I’ll let you up when you tell me I’m right.”

“Alright, dude, you're right, get off me!”

“Right about _what_?”

“Shit, I don't remember, okay? Please, can I just—”

“Noooo can do, not till you give daddy what he wants.”

Charlie’s eyes widened when Mac rolled his hips forwards against Charlie’s thigh to punctuate his words.

“Uh-uh, no, this is not gonna become some weird sex thing, you gotta get off me, buddy.”

“Who said anything about sex? That was just, like, tough cool guy talk, you know?”

“You just…! Thrusted, man!”

“I did not! That was from this movie I saw, hang on, I gotta think of the name.”

Charlie smacked his head against the floor and groaned. God, the pressure in his bladder was getting bad, and there was nothing he could do about it. This conversation was going nowhere fast.

Charlie decided to switch gears. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, take care of another issue he'd been meaning to confront his friend about.

“Mac,” he said, and Mac blinked down at him, clearly not expecting to be cut off.

He also didn't expect Charlie to grab him by the neck with both hands and smash their lips together, if the way his whole body went rigid and the raw noise from somewhere deep inside him was anything to go by. Charlie wasn't fazed by the lack of reaction, didn't even fully understand the logic behind why this had felt like the next best step to take, but here he was, licking into Mac’s mouth, hips twitching with his need to piss. He blamed all those beers, and the glue he’d huffed earlier in the apartment, and Mac’s face being so close to his. What was he supposed to do, _not_ kiss the guy? Come on.

Mac was still effectively frozen, though he still didn't move away as Charlie pulled away with one last bite to Mac’s lower lip.

Charlie hiccuped.

“How ‘bout that.”

In lieu of a response, Mac surged forwards, kissing Charlie with what could only be years of pent up frustration, given the fervor and the raw, almost anguished noises he was making while they kissed. He kissed with the passion of a man who had denied himself something he so desperately needed his whole miserable life. The alcohol helped.

Charlie would've been more alarmed if this was anyone but Mac, but he kinda expected this kind of thing. That tended to happen when you've known a guy your whole life.

They broke apart, Mac’s ragged breath warm against Charlie’s lips as they laid, foreheads together.

“Mac, dude, I’m serious, you gotta get off me, man.”

“Aw, come on, still, with this dude?”

“I still have to go! That didn't just go away!”

Charlie slid a hand down between their bodies to grip himself, though this also meant that the back of his hand brushed against Mac’s erection every now and then.

“Dude, okay, fine. Why don't I cut you a deal. You and me,” Mac gestured between the two of them, rather unnecessarily, “will keep making out for a while. Maybe get to second base, if you're lucky. Then, you will tell me I'm right. Don’t think I forgot about that. And _then_ I will let you up.”

“Dude, I swear to god I’m about to piss on you, and not on purpose.”

“Look, I don't make the rules.”

“You just did! You just made up a ton of rules, when you could just as easily just let me up!”

“I made up, like, two rules, okay!”

“Three–okay, you know what? Fine. I warned you.”

Charlie hooked a leg over Mac’s hips and forced their bodies together, and mashed their lips together in a sloppy kiss.

Mac clearly was getting into it, judging by his hard cock, which Charlie could feel clearly up against his own soft one as Mac ground down. Normally, this kind of thing would have him hard in no time, but his need to piss was overpowering every other function in his body.

Charlie held out as long as he could, but he could only not piss on his best friend for so long. And really, he'd given more than enough warning.

Mac jerked back, no doubt feeling his crotch grow unmistakably warm and wet.

“Dude, are you–”

“Uh-huh. Oh, _fuck_ , this has been needing to happen for a while.”

If Charlie’s eyes weren’t screwed shut, he'd be able to see Mac consider his situation, then shrug, and Charlie responded as best he could when Mac leaned forward to kiss him again, though his best included a lot of gasping and whining and mumbling.

Mac had resumed humping Charlie, egged on by the added heat and the way their wet jeans slid, creating a delicious friction.

Mac gave up on kissing Charlie, deciding he'd rather hear the high sounds of pure bliss and relief, so he leaned down and began sucking marks into Charlie’s skin, right below where his scruffy beard began.

Charlie shuddered, still holding on to the back of Mac’s neck as he finished pissing.

“Mac, Mac, oh my god, this is gross,” he said, out of breath. He was more saying it just to say it, not really meaning they should stop.

“Mhmm,” Mac hummed, still sucking marks into Charlie’s neck.

Well, fair enough.

Charlie could feel himself get hard now that his need to piss had subsided, and he could definitely feel himself chafing in his jeans.

“Hey, I’m gonna take my dick out, and you don't have to do anything with it, but it's, it's gonna be there, you know?”

Mac wasn't listening, or he didn't care, so Charlie reached down to unbutton and unzip himself, pulling his underwear down so that his cock stood proud between him and Mac’s stomachs.

His breath hitched as the tip dragged over the fabric of Mac’s stupid RIOT t-shirt, but it wasn't nearly enough. He tried to angle his hips up, but Mac chose that moment to sit up, to fully survey the mess of Charlie that he'd made.

Charlie watched his friend carefully. He was really weird when it came to this stuff, one wrong move and the whole thing would be over. “Mac, buddy, talk to me. You good?”

Mac gave him a strange look. “Yeah, dude, totally, why wouldn't I be okay?”

“Well, because we...uh, you’re…” Charlie began lamely, then realized how badly laying the situation out could go for both of them.

“Look, just, lemme…” Charlie trailed off, reaching for Mac’s fly. His movements were slow, careful, like he was trying not to spook a wild animal. It was weird being on the other side of this kind of treatment, actually.

But Mac only watched him, chest rising and falling, eyebrows scrunched together while biting his lip in a way that he always did when he was concentrating as Charlie got Mac’s dick out from his pants. Charlie looked up at him, those blue eyes through dark lashes, and gave Mac’s dick an experimental stroke.

“Good?”

“Yeah, bro.”

“Dude, this is so crazy. This is so weird.”

“I know, right!”

They both laughed like Charlie didn't have his hand on Mac’s cock and like they were having a regular conversation, but then Charlie stroked again, and Mac made this punched out noise that went straight to Charlie’s core.

Mac eventually settled down over Charlie once more, to where Charlie could simultaneously have both himself and Mac in hand, and then the two set up a rhythm, punctuated by rolling hips and tiny noises that drove the other insane. The only other sound was the slick sound of wet skin sliding, which should've been gross, but it only egged the both of them on.

Their lips met again, their slow making out a sharp contrast to the desperate thrusting of their hips, and it was against Mac’s lips that Charlie murmured, “Hey, I’m gonna–fuck, gonna cum, _shit_.”

It hadn’t been that long, but they were both jittery with arousal and nerves, though alcohol did dull that edge a bit.

Mac only kissed him harder, fucked down into Charlie’s hand, the friction of their cocks sliding together almost too much to bear.

With one final cry, Charlie came over his own knuckles, as well as his shirt, and Mac’s.

“Dude, you just, fuckin, came _everywhere_ , man,” Mac panted. He was beginning to feel that desperation that comes with impending orgasm.

Charlie, on the other hand, lay sprawled, lazy, feeling satiated. He was polite enough to keep jacking Mac off, and if he was 17 the sight of Mac rolling his body and putting everything into chasing his orgasm and just using Charlie for his own pleasure would've made him hard again.

As it was, his own dick gave a feeble twitch, but that didn't mean Charlie didn't appreciate the view.

“Dude, sorry about this being a handjob, I’d totally suck you off normally, but, like, your dick is covered in my piss.”

“N-no, man, I gotcha, thi-i-s is good,” was all Mac could manage in response.

Finally, Mac buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder, noise like a sob as he spent himself over Charlie’s hand and shirt.

Mac shook through his orgasm, and Charlie pet the back of Mac’s hair with his free hand as he came down, until Mac collapsed on top of Charlie, once again forcing the air out of his lungs.

“Come on dude, you’re heavy, stop doing that.”

Though Mac’s face was mashed against Charlie’s collarbone, he could still hear, “Dude, I’m building mass, okay, of course I’m gonna be heavy.”

Charlie rolled his eyes, and when Mac _finally_ rolled off of him, he groaned. He was even more of a mess than usual.

Mac apparently noticed as well.

“Dude, you’re fuckin’ nasty, man!”

“Shut up, asshole! So are you!”

“Nah, but you’re covered in cum, so it's even grosser.”

Charlie sighed, tucked himself back into his wet jeans with a wince, then rolled onto his feet (too quickly, as he promptly fell sideways, though the bar was there to catch him).

“Whatever, man, let's just, let's clean up, okay? And put your dick away, for god’s sake.”

Mac looked down at himself, eyebrows raised. He forgot he was still very much on display for the world to see. His reaction was similar to Charlie’s as he tucked himself away as well.

They cleaned up in companionable, if a little awkward silence, though Charlie did wrinkle his nose when he passed Mac.

“You smell like piss.”

“Charlie, I don't think I’ve ever seen a day with you not smelling like piss, so why the fuck are you calling me out for smelling like piss?”

“Yeah, but that's my thing, you know, so…”

“Your _thing_?”

“Yeah, like, my style, you know, that kinda thing.”

“Fine, whatever, I think we have some extra shirts in the office, maybe I can scrounge up some pants too.”

Mac returned shortly after, and as Charlie mopped the rest of the evidence away, he spoke, refusing to look at Mac, who was seated at the bar in clean clothes studying the fresh beer in his hand.

“So, uh. Do you want to talk about that? I mean, just so we’re cool. We don't have to. But...we’re cool, right?”

He stopped mopping to look up at Mac.

Mac was sitting at the bar, rubbing his stubbled jaw in a way that betrayed his inner turmoil.

But what he said was “Yeah. We’re cool, bro.”

Charlie nodded, eyes back on the mop in his hands. That is, until Mac spoke again.

“Okay, but like, I still want you to admit I’m right.”

**Author's Note:**

> huzzah, my first publicly posted fic! and it’s FILTH! come bug me on tumblr @gayknightclub or on discord mak#0307, i’m not as active in this fandom anymore but still love it dearly and would love to chat. xx


End file.
